


The House at Spinner's End

by kcthekat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Child Harry, Fluff, I might continue, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, snape raising harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcthekat/pseuds/kcthekat
Summary: Just a day in the life of Severus Snape raising five-year-old Harry Potter.
Comments: 50
Kudos: 412





	1. Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Been a while. I’ve been busy working on my original novel (150,000 words and counting!), but I had this weirdly vivid dream a few nights ago about Severus Snape raising Harry after the death of James and Lily, and honestly, it was just… very cool.

Did I mention Snape looked like Adam Driver in my dream? Because he did. I love you, Alan Rickman, but you were a hair too old to play thirty-one-year-old Snape (because that’s how old he was in Harry’s first year).

Anyway, I don’t know if this story will amount to anything, but I wanted to get it out of my brain so… here you go.

* * *

Whenever possible, magical parents in the UK educated their young children at home. Reading, writing, and basic math were all essential to success at Hogwarts, and many parents took on this responsibility themselves. However, this wasn’t always possible for a variety of reasons, which meant that sometimes – in the more populated magical areas of England, Ireland, and Scotland – small magical preschools would crop up, and children would venture there day after day for at least a few hours, much like small Muggle children would do in primary.

One such institution was located in the region of Cokeworth, England, and it was a very fine little school that sat just on the edge of a cluster of magical homes. The nearby area of Spinner’s End was a mix of Magical and Muggle, but the neighborhood nearest the schoolhouse was all Magical, and they enjoyed a quaint life without much fear of interruption or discovery. Each day, magical parents brought their little ones – usually around a dozen or so – to the schoolhouse, and the lead teacher, Miss Abernathy, would welcome the children in and prepare them for the day’s lessons.

For many years, she had done this work solely on her own, being very good with children and rather strict when she needed to be. However, there’d been a bit of a baby boom in the years prior, and now she had more children than she could handle. As a result, she made a hire in the form of one Rosemary Prewitt.

On Rosemary’s first day, she stood excitedly at the school’s front door and welcomed each student while Miss Abernathy worked to get them situated inside. Each time a new parent came forward, Rosemary eagerly introduced herself as the new assistant teacher. Everyone seemed so kind, and she was incredibly appreciative. This was her first job after graduating from Hogwarts, and after the turmoil of the Wizarding War a few years prior, she was grateful to have a job.

In her hands, she had a list of children’s names. When they arrived, she checked off their names and ushered them inside.

It was close to 9 AM – the time lessons were set to start – when she saw there was only one name remaining. Before she could register the name, a little boy came running up, a wild grin on his face.

“Hello, I’m here!” he called out, waving an arm as if she could not see him only a few feet away.

“Oh, good morning!” Rosemary called cheerfully, and she looked for the little boy’s parents. However, she saw only the swift turn of a black cloak, and then nothing. Brows furrowed, she cleared away the confused expression ( _They must have been in a hurry_ , she thought) and leaned over to the little boy.

“Hello, there. What’s your name?”

“My name is Harry!” exclaimed the little boy. “Harry Snape!”

“Harry Snape… Ah, here you are! Hello, Harry. My name is Miss Prewitt, and I’m going to be the new assistant teacher.”

“Neat!” said Harry. “I like meeting new people!”

Rosemary laughed and led him inside.

Her first day at the school was a whirlwind. The little children – who ranged in age from five to nine – were accustomed to their routine, but her arrival had made them all very excited, so she and Miss Abernathy had their work cut out for them. They had stories and crafts and math practice, and they spent time playing out on the playground. They played singing and guessing games, and they chased pixies around the small garden out back.

Harry, the little boy who’d come last, was Rosemary’s secret favorite.

He was so very friendly, and he always had a smile on his face. He was a cute little bugger, too, with wide green eyes framed in rounded glasses and black hair cut very short and neat. He was dressed in very modest, almost adult-like robes, and even his shoes were small boots instead of sneakers. From a distance, he looked like a little old man, but up close, his bright, shining personality showed off his youth brilliantly.

“Harry, you’re such a good reader!” Rosemary praised, and she meant it. Harry was the most advanced reader in his group.

“My daddy reads to me a lot,” he said, smiling and holding up the book. “We practice all the time!”

“What a good daddy you have,” she said, patting his head. “Does your mother read, too?”

Harry shrugged. “My mummy died. I don’t remember her. But Daddy says she was very smart.”

“Oh,” said Rosemary faintly. “I’m – I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Harry in that dismissive way children often spoke. “Daddy says school is very important, and I should study hard, and then I can be the top student at Hogwarts, too.”

“Well, he’s very right,” Rosemary said with a nod. “It’s good to study.” She leaned close and squeezed his hand. “But remember to have fun, too, right?”

“Of course!” Harry grinned.

Rosemary laughed. After a while, all the children finished up, and then they played for a few minutes as their parents began to arrive to pick them up. Rosemary stayed close to Harry. She wanted to meet this ‘daddy’ she had heard about nearly all day. Harry had brought him up so many times. Daddy does this, daddy does that. She wanted to meet his fellow.

However, like that morning, Harry’s father was one of the last to show up. When he did, Rosemary found herself quite … surprised.

The wizard in question was young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and he really looked nothing like Harry. While they both had black hair, the father kept his tied back in a low ponytail, and it looked long enough to reach his shoulders. He was wearing a severe black cloak and matching black robes, as well as a pair of boots. His hands were stained with something purple, and he often cast his dark eyes up at the sun as if he could not fathom why it was there. His skin was quite pale, much in contrast to Harry’s, which was rather tan. Their facial features, likewise, were rather dissimilar; this man had a narrow face with a larger nose, and he did not share Harry’s green eyes. Instead, his were a dark brown that bordered on black.

Perhaps the starkest difference between them, though, was their dispositions. While Harry was an animated chatter-box ready to burst with unspent energy, this man looked like misanthropy personified.

The strange thing was, as soon as Harry saw him, his face lit up with true, genuine joy. “Daddy!”

The man looked in his direction. “Harry,” he greeted calmly, and the little boy jumped up and ran full speed in his father’s direction. As if anticipating this, the man held up his hand and arrested Harry’s motion with a palm to his face, which stopped Harry in his spot and left him pinwheeling his arms to get to Snape. This made Harry burst into laughter as he fought to reach his father’s side. Snape kept him in his spot, hand holding him by his forehead.

Rosemary stared for a few seconds before she hurried forward, hands behind her back in a demure posture. “Mister Snape?”

He was still holding Harry by his head. He looked at her and raised a brow. “Yes?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! My name is Rosemary Prewitt. I’m the new assistant teacher here at the school.” She stuck out her hand.

Snape observed it. He looked back at the hand that was holding Harry, and at last, he released him. Harry barreled forward and crashed right into him, which Snape reacted to only minimally. He did not accept Rosemary’s hand, and she dropped it awkwardly.

“You are the new teacher?” questioned Snape, brows furrowing. “And what, dare I ask, are your qualifications?”

Rosemary balked. “Er, well – “

“Have you been licensed by the Ministry?”

“Well, no. You don’t have to be, for this kind of – “

“And what is your experience in teaching small children?”

Rosemary paused, and then she cleared her throat and smiled. “Well, I grew up in a large family, and I was always helping my siblings.”

Snape did not look impressed.

“I haven’t – actually taught before, this is my first job.”

“Your first ever?” asked Snape with a curl of his lip. “And you chose a position in which your success or failure determines the future academic readiness of small children?”

Rosemary’s jaw dropped.

“Daddy.” Harry tugged on the man’s robes. “I like her. She’s very nice.”

“Teachers do not need to be nice, Harry,” Snape said, addressing the child for the first time. “They need to be knowledgeable. They are your educators and mentors, not your friends.” He looked back at Rosemary. “Therefore, if they have no knowledge or wisdom to impart, they are useless.”

“I can assure you, Mister Snape,” Rosemary said testily, “I am perfectly capable of caring for – and teaching – small children.”

Snape gave her a superior look. “We will see.” He held out his hand without looking at the boy. “Come, Harry.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Harry took his hand and waved at Rosemary. “Good-bye, Miss Prewitt! See you tomorrow!”

Rosemary stuttered a good-bye and then watched as Snape led Harry away. They vanished a moment later. Huffing, Rosemary stomped into the schoolhouse.

“Met Mister Snape, did you?” asked Abernathy, chuckling.

“Oh, he’s awful!” Rosemary folded her arms and sat down with a pout. “How could a sweet boy like Harry live with a rude git like him? And with no mother! Poor child.”

“They do seem an odd pair,” Abernathy acknowledged, “but I think Harry is fine.”

Rosemary made a face and looked out the window to the spot the pair had disappeared from.

“I hope so,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine living with a man like that.”

***

Severus Snape appeared in a whirlwind of color at the end of their small neighborhood street, Harry’s hand still in his. The boy was chattering non-stop about his day. “And then Miss Abernathy brought in a pygmy puff, and we played with it, and I named it Susan.”

Snape didn’t reply. They continued walking.

“Daddy, what would you do if I brought home a pygmy puff as a pet?”

“I would feed it to the Venomous Tentacula.”

Harry gasped dramatically. “No, you wouldn’t!”

“I most certainly would.”

They rounded a corner. The street was lined with modest homes belonging to magical families. Theirs was at the end.

“Would you ever feed me to a Venomous Tentacula?”

“Perhaps.”

“I don’t believe you, Daddy.”

Snape briefly lifted Harry up into the air so he wouldn’t trek through a mud puddle, and then he put him back down.

“You’re probably right,” Snape conceded once they were at their front door. “You would make for a poor meal.”

They opened the door and went inside.

Their home was a modest grey-stone house neatly tucked into the furthest corner of the village. Inside, there was an open living room lined with shelves brimming with books. There was a square kitchen table far off to the side with only two chairs and hanging over it was a steel candle holder. There was a soft, simple couch, a plush chair that didn’t match, and a blue rug littered with toys, some of which were moving of their own accord. There was also a pair of boxed up board games off to the side, and beyond that, a long, low table that contained a small tank with a grindylow inside.

Beyond the living room was a narrow kitchen that ran the length of the house, and Harry ran in there, rummaging around for a snack until Snape brought out an apple and set a knife to cutting it up. He handed it off to Harry, who took it back into the living room and crashed into the rug before he turned on the magical radio and listened to a silly children’s program.

When it was over, he put up his plate and ran to his bedroom, which was attached to the living room on the front side of the house. Harry’s bedroom was small but well-organized, with yet more books and toys. He had a trunk at the foot of his bed and a small closet, and his twin-sized bed was in the corner and made up with clean white sheets and a hand-knitted blanket. There was a small lantern next to his bed because he didn’t like the dark, and it sat next to a framed photo of his parents the summer before they left for Hogwarts. He liked the photo very much.

After a few minutes, he and Snape went outside and wandered the garden, picking various ingredients and putting them in baskets. The garden behind their house was quite magnificent, but it served a larger purpose than beauty. It was where Snape grew the ingredients for his potions; he had yet more in the large greenhouse.

Harry continued to talk as they wandered, only stopping when Snape tapped his head and directed his attention to a plant.

“This here,” Snape told him, “is toxic to swallow. Do you remember the word ‘toxic’?”

“It means it will hurt you,” said Harry wisely.

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be useful. It just means you can’t eat it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Snape stood, and they continued on. After a while, Harry got tired, and Snape picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. Harry laid his cheek against the rough material of his father’s robes and let himself grow drowsy under the calming soundtrack of the garden. Snape walked on, one arm around Harry and the other holding the basket of herbs.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Will you read the Quidditch book tonight?”

Snape made a face. “There are so many more useful books to read. Quidditch is for brutes.”

“But I like Quidditch, Daddy. Please.”

Snape didn’t answer, and Harry wrapped his arms tight around his neck. “Please, please, please, Daddy, please – “

“ _Harry_ ,” said Snape sharply, and Harry stopped and pouted. “If you say ‘please,’ one more time, I will leave you next to a Muggle highway.”

“You would not.”

“A _busy_ Muggle highway.”

“Nuh-unh.” Harry leaned on him again.

Snape walked back to the outside table and set the basket of herbs there. Then he took Harry inside and put him down, leaving the little boy to cling to him as he walked around the house, putting things up and setting the rooms in order. After that, he made Harry take a bath (“Eughhhh, I hate baths!”) and change into his pajamas.

“The hippogriff ones! The hippogriff ones!”

“I don’t know where they are, Harry.”

“They’re under the bed.”

“Why are they under the bed?”

Harry wisely chose not to answer, but Snape did recover the pajamas, and he decided they were clean enough, at least, so he let Harry wear them. The little boy ran and bounced into his bed, and once he was there, he looked up at Snape with giddy eagerness.

Snape sighed and sat down with a book in hand.

“ _Quidditch Through the Ages_ ,” he started. “Chapter One.”

Harry grinned widely.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry began fading off to sleep. “Good-night, Daddy,” he murmured, turning and tucking into his bed.

“Good-night,” said Snape, closing the book and standing. He set it on the shelf, and then he turned back to Harry, taking off the boy’s glasses and folding them before he set them aside. He turned off the lights, pushed the lantern a little closer to Harry’s bed, and then he left, picking up dirty clothes along the way and depositing them in a hamper.

Once the house was quiet, Snape went into the kitchen and emptied out Harry’s lunchbag from that day. He cleaned it with a spell, and then he set about preparing a new lunch for tomorrow. He made a tuna-fish sandwich with mayonnaise, which he found disgusting but Harry loved, and he cut it into neat triangles before putting it in a small baggie. Then he added orange slices, half a cookie, and a small thermos of juice to the bag. He closed it up and set it on the counter next to Harry’s school bag. He also set out Harry’s clothes for in the morning, and he made a mental note to head to Diagon Alley soon to get the boy some new socks.

Once that was done, he went back into the potions workshop at the back of the house and continued working. He supplied a local apothecary with numerous potions, and it brought him a steady income, but sometimes the demand simply outstripped his ability, and he had to work late.

After about an hour, he heard a shuffling and he looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway. He kept out of the workshop, because he wasn’t allowed in, but he stood on the very edge of the threshold and whimpered.

“I had a bad dream, Daddy.”

Snape sighed. “Dreams cannot hurt you, Harry. Go back to bed.”

Harry’s face crumpled. “But it was really scary. There was a green light, and it hurt.”

Snape’s brows furrowed. He hesitated. It was just a dream. It was natural Harry would have some recollection of what happened…

Damn it. He had a lot of work to do to get the order filled.

Sighing, he shifted and gestured to Harry, who hurried across the room and climbed into his lap. Snape maneuvered him into a comfortable position against his chest, and Harry curled there as Snape went on working around him.

Harry nuzzled his cheek into the front of Snape’s robes. Snape glanced down at him, his hands steadily working on the table to grind bat wings into a fine powder.

“You are a burden,” Snape told him.

“What’s a burden…?” asked Harry sleepily.

“A thing all children are.”

“A good thing?”

“No. A troublesome thing.”

“Is that why you’re gonna feed me to a Venomous Tentacula?”

“Mmhm.”

Harry shifted his head so that his chin was on Snape’s front, and his eyes looked up adoringly at him.

“Fibber,” he murmured.

“How do you know I’m fibbing?”

“Because you love me.”

Snape raised a brow at him, and then he shifted in his seat, pulling one side of his cloak further around Harry and continuing to work with his free hand. Harry smiled and put his cheek against Snape’s robes once more.

He was asleep by the time Snape finally responded.

“Love is very much a burden, child.”

He pulled the sleeping boy a little closer and worked late into the night. 


	2. Lunch for Two

Author’s Note: Thank you for the favs, kudos, and reviews! And so Snape’s trials and tribulations continue… in a not-all-that-cohesive and totally one-shot oriented kind of way.

***

Rosemary Prewitt celebrated her sixth month as a teacher by setting a goal for herself.

She was going to make Severus Snape – little Harry’s father – like her. Okay, perhaps that was a bit ambitious. However, she did truly believe she could make him be cordial to her, if nothing else. Yes, that would be enough. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

So, each day when Mister Snape arrived to pick up his son, Rosemary made an effort to speak to him.

“Hello, Mister Snape!”

The man in question turned his narrowed gaze on her. Rosemary stepped forward, hand clasped together in front of her.

“Harry tells me you’re a potioneer.” She beamed. “That’s wonderfully interesting. Could you tell me a little about it? What sort of potions do you make?”

Snape regarded her expressionlessly. “Why do you want to know?”

Rosemary hesitated. “No real reason,” she said more softly. “We’re only making conversation.”

“No,” said Snape, taking Harry’s hand. “You are making conversation. I am leaving.”

And so he did. Rosemary huffed and stomped her foot.

A few days later, she tried again.

“Harry did very well on his test today,” she said proudly.

“Of course he did,” replied Snape tonelessly. “I didn’t raise a half-wit.” He scanned the other departing children. “A prodigious feat among parents, it would seem.”

And then he left. Rosemary sighed.

One day, though, she had a real reason to catch Snape’s attention.

“Mister Snape.”

He faced her with a glare.

Rosemary edged away from Harry and the other children. “Mister Snape, I need to ask – why have you been sending Harry to school with no lunch?”

This caught Snape’s attention. “I have always sent Harry’s lunch,” he informed her, looking a bit offended. “Are you implying that he hasn’t been eating at school?”

Rosemary’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think he has, Mister Snape. For the last three days, he’s just sat during the lunch hour and done nothing. When I asked him why he wasn’t eating, he shrugged and said you’d forgotten it, and that it was alright, because he would eat later.”

Snape bristled. “I have done no such thing. Harry always has food.” Turning, he investigated the group of children as they left the schoolhouse. “Harry!”

The boy hurried over, smiling, but his expression flickered at Snape’s stern look. “Yes?”

“Why have you not been eating your lunch at school?”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he looked down, shrugging his shoulders. “I lost it.”

“You lost your lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Three days in a row?”

Harry paused and then nodded. Snape stooped down low, his expression severe.

“Do. Not. _Lie_.”

Harry bit his lip. “Alright. I didn’t lose it.” He looked up, green eyes shining with concern behind his rounded glasses. “I gave it to Leonard. He’s a boy in my class.”

Snape straightened. “Why did you give it to him? Was he bullying you?”

“No, no, Daddy. He just didn’t have anything to eat. He said his stomach hurt because he was so hungry, so I gave him mine.” Harry looked down at his shoes and turned his toes inward. “I only wanted to help,” Harry added in a whisper.

Snape stared for a few seconds, astonished. Rosemary leaned over.

“Oh, Harry, dear. You could have just shared a little of your lunch, or told one of us – “

“Excuse me,” said Snape sharply. “You are not a part of this conversation.”

Rosemary pulled back with a flush. “Sorry.”

Snape looked back at Harry again. “Harry, what you did was foolish. That food was for you, not Leonard. We do not starve ourselves to feed others. That is illogical.”

“But Daddy – “

“You cannot put the welfare of others before yourself,” interrupted Snape. “That boy is the responsibility of his parents, not you. You are a child.”

“But I can eat at home! We always have food!”

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but little Harry cut him off.

“And Leonard’s daddy is mean to him!” Harry teared up quite suddenly, sniffling and wiping his face with his sleeve. “They never have food at home. And all his daddy does is yell and hit.” Harry looked up at Snape with wide eyes. “He doesn’t have a good daddy like I do.”

Snape fell quiet.

Rosemary looked at his stunned expression, and for the first time since starting her position, she saw a glimmer of something behind his dark eyes.

Snape cleared his throat. “Regardless, I want you to promise you will never give away your food again. There are other alternatives. Do you understand?”

Harry sniffled and nodded. “Okay,” he murmured.

Rosemary cleared her throat. “I will… check on Leonard and his family. I had no idea this was going on.”

Snape nodded stiffly, and then he held out a hand to Harry, who took it and descended the steps with him. They began to walk off. As they did, Harry looked up at some other children passing by. Snape followed his gaze.

A young boy a few years older than Harry was walking behind a skinny, sallow looking witch. The child was dressed in ill-fitting, mismatched clothes, and his hair was limp and greasy from a lack of washing. As he trailed behind the witch, he looked up at Harry and Snape. An expression of wonder and envy crossed his face.

Snape looked away, and his grip on Harry’s hand tightened some. He shifted it to the back of the boy’s head, holding him there. Harry looked up in surprise.

“Would you like to go to the village tomorrow?” asked Snape faintly. “We can go to the bakery for some sweets.”

Harry smiled. “Yes, yes!”

Snape nodded. “Good,” he said quietly. “You need new socks.”

***


	3. Chapter 3

Author’s Note: And here’s another one! Enjoy.

***

It was a lovely day in Spinner’s End, and for once, there was not much to do.

Well, the truth was, Spinner’s End rarely had a lot to do. It wasn’t exactly a bustling area, being in the quaint countryside, and the most excitement residents ever saw was the occasional pixie infestation, and that one time a goblin on the run from the law secretly lived in someone’s attic for six months.

Severus Snape, however, was nearly always busy, mostly because the work of a single parent was never done. 

On that morning, though, he discovered things were actually quite settled. His potion orders were caught up, and the greenhouse didn’t really need tending. Harry had clean clothes and the house wasn’t a wreck; plus, their grocery shopping had been done the day before. All in all, things were wonderfully under control, which was a pleasant surprise for most people but an annoyance to Snape. 

“Daddy, I’m bored.”

Snape had to agree.

“Oh! I’ve got an idea!” Harry popped up next to him. “Let’s go visit Draco!”

That, Snape decided, was actually a very good plan. “Alright, go and get your things,” he said, before sending a speedy owl ahead to the Malfoys. He got a reply in about two hours, and by that time, Harry had managed to find and lose a single shoe from each of the three pairs he owned, which was at least consistent with his character.

A half-hour later, they arrived at the sprawling Malfoy Estate.

Harry bounced along the paved path eagerly. He only got to see Draco once every four or five months, because Wiltshire was just a little too far to Apparate to safely, but the two had remained constant friends since toddlerhood. As such, they were always excited to see each other.

“HARRY!” Five-year-old Draco tackled him at the door. Snape had to side-step so the two boys wouldn’t knock him off the threshold. “I got a new archery set – it’s the best one ever, it cost a million galleons – let’s go.”

The house elf who’d opened the door allowed Snape to come inside, and he did, watching the two boys run off at full-speed, no doubt ready and willing to break something of considerable value.

Lucius Malfoy appeared and watched with a bemused expression as the two boys disappeared around a corner.

“Severus,” he said in greeting, and they went into the sitting room. Much of the day passed quickly, with tea and a light lunch. Harry and Draco bounced from room to room, yelling and pushing and grappling and laughing.

“We’re taking a trip to St. Petersburg next month,” Lucius told Severus as they walked the length of the sunroom before passing through a door to the outside gardens.

“For leisure or business?” asked Severus, standing shoulder to shoulder with the older wizard as the boys tumbled about in the garden. 

“Oh, a bit of both,” said Lucius mildly. He caught Severus’ eye and smirked. “I do like to keep in contact with certain individuals… Those who may prove useful once more in the future.”

Severus raised a brow. “I hope you don’t mean Karkaroff.”

“And why not?” asked Lucius. “Did you know he’s going to be made the new Headmaster of Durmstrang?”

Severus raised both brows. High. “I was under the impression he was still quite far from the good graces of his government.”

“Oh, but Durmstrang is a different beast, isn’t it? They know the true way of things.” Lucius nodded in satisfaction. “I thought it high time to re-establish our relationship with him, particularly now that he’s going to be in a position of power. After all,” Lucius lowered his voice, eyes on the children, “I could have given his name a thousand times over during the trials, but I didn’t. He owes me. The bloody fool could have easily avoided his stint in Azkaban if he’d simply done what I told him to.”

Lucius straightened again. “And anyway, there are others in the Russian Federation of Magic whom I would be _most_ interested in making contact with. Karkaroff is far from the only lucrative element there.”

Snape nodded slowly, thinking over this news in silence. After a while, Lucius called for some tea, and they sat together at a table. 

“How goes Harry’s schooling?”

Snape glanced at him. “It’s fine. He does well. His teachers are imbeciles, though. One of them is terribly young, and I am convinced she is a former Hufflepuff.”

The two exchanged mutual looks of distaste.

“Harry keeps telling me to be nicer to her,” added Snape dryly.

Lucius scoffed. “Well, be sure not to give in to him. You must not spoil children, after all.”

Snape set down his teacup and gave Lucius a very pointed look.

“What?” asked the other man, as if baffled.

“Are you,” deadpanned Snape, “Lucius Malfoy, going to sit here in your dragonskin boots and tell _me_ not to spoil a child? When you and your wife are personally responsible for that little troll there?”

Together, they looked over at Draco, who was riding on Harry’s back and constantly saying “yip yip!”

“Draco, you’re too heavy!”

Harry collapsed into the dirt with Draco on his back, and Draco huffed. “YIP YIP!”

“I’m not a horse!”

“YIP YIP, SERVANT!”

Lucius waved a hand. “Draco is an exceptional boy,” he said, and Snape snorted. “He deserves exceptional treatment.”

They watched as Harry rolled over and tried to crush Draco beneath him.

“And besides,” said Lucius more quietly, “you know how special he is to Narcissa after… “ he cleared his throat. “The losses.”

Yes, Snape remembered. Three miscarriages, and the Malfoys had all but given up hope. Draco had come as a surprise after nearly ten years of marriage.

“Well,” said Snape briskly, “I don’t plan on accommodating Harry. He’ll learn the truth of the world soon enough. I only wish he didn’t have such a preposterously tender heart.”

“Yes, well, that would be his mother in him, I assume.”

Snape froze. His dark eyes flickered to Lucius, who took a long drink from his tea.

“What?” questioned Lucius, darkly amused. “You thought I didn't know who that little boy is, Severus?” Lucius looked out again. “Merlin, he looks more and more like Potter every day.”

Snape cleared his throat. After a long pause, he muttered, “…Don’t remind me.”

“It was a brilliant idea on your part,” Lucius went on casually. “Taking in the boy after what happened with the Dark Lord.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “The child defeated the greatest wizard of all time – as an _infant_. Who knows what he has in store for us?”

“What do you mean?” asked Snape, brows furrowed.

Lucius chuckled. “Severus, the child has potential! Nevermind his impure background, he must have great magical ability, don’t you think? He could be it – the key to the revival of our efforts. The next _Dark Lord.”_

An icy shot of fear raced through Snape’s heart. He kept his face stoic and unimpressed, and rather than saying what he was thinking – which was that Lucius was mad to ever hope for such a thing – he shifted in his chair and said flatly, “He is an unremarkable child. I would not dare hope for such a thing.”

That wasn’t true. Snape felt Harry was very bright and gifted, but he would not say that to Lucius (and really, he’d never said it to Harry, either).

Lucius made a noncommittal noise and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Either way, it’s a good idea to have him in our fold, just in case, don’t you think? If you raise him the right way – instill the values that are necessary for a strong magical community - we might very well have another chance.”

“Another chance at what, Lucius?” asked Snape, disgruntled.

Lucius’s lips quirked. “Victory, my friend.” He pointed at Snape with a finger. “But only if he’s reared in the right conditions.” He finished the last of his tea and set the cup aside. “Do your part, young Severus, and you might well be the caregiver of the next Lord Voldemort.”

Snape looked away to the children, who were now on their stomachs in the grass, making a treasure map. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in Snape’s chest, and he fought the urge to rub it.

“Let’s just hope,” continued Lucius when Snape didn’t say anything, “that he doesn’t have too much of his real father in him. Annoying little prat, that Potter.”

“James Potter is _dead_ ,” snapped Snape, and Lucius looked at him, surprised. “I am his real father.”

A curious expression flickered over Lucius’s face. “Of course,” he said mildly, and they let the conversation drop.

A little while later, Snape took Harry and they headed home.

***

For days after their trip to the Malfoys, Snape thought on the conversation he’d had with Lucius. It bothered him to a terrible extent, but each time he looked at little Harry, he became further convinced that Lucius Malfoy’s assumptions were made out of desperation and therefore had no value. Harry was not destined to be the dark lord of anything. He was just a little boy who sometimes put his clothes on inside-out and often lost kitchen utensils.

However, one day threatened to shatter Snape’s self-reassurances entirely. 

The weather that afternoon was wonderfully mild, and they’d been working together to pick herbs all morning, so Snape had declared they could take a break and play a game. Harry had chosen chess, so they set out a board beneath a tree and Snape coached Harry through the rules, which he’d only recently started learning. They were playing for a little while when the mail arrived, and Snape got up to go and receive it.

When he came back, he saw Harry lying on his belly with his chin in his hands. In front of him was a snake, and it was eye-level with the little boy. Its gaze was locked into Harry’s as if spelled there. Harry did not seem afraid, though. On the contrary, he was quite at ease.

And he was talking to it. Harry was talking to the snake, making a series of incomprehensible hisses as the serpent listened attentively.

Snape dropped the package he’d received, eyes wide with shock.

Harry looked up quickly, and the snake darted off. “Hi Daddy – “

“What are you doing?” asked Snape sharply. “Why were you making those noises?”

Harry stared. “What noises?”

“The noises you were making to the snake!”

“I wasn’t making noises, Daddy. I was just talking.”

Snape swallowed hard. “Go to your room.”

“But Daddy – “

“Go to your room now!”

Harry jerked back, surprised, and then he bit his lip and got up before hurrying off. He looked quite confused and scared, but Snape didn’t try to comfort him. Instead, he stayed in the garden, practically shaking, for nearly ten minutes.

He hadn’t heard such noises in years. The memories they induced made him trembled with fear. 

_He could be the next Dark Lord._

After a while, Snape took in a deep breath and went inside. With trembling hands, he wandered the house trying to collect himself. Harry was in his room, and after a little while, he peeked out his head.

“Daddy? Am I in trouble?”

Snape looked up to see the wide-eyed child staring at him, lower lip trembling. Snape cleared his throat, and after a few seconds, he shook his head. “No, Harry.” He crossed the living room and came into Harry’s bedroom, and together, they sat on Harry’s bed.

“Harry, I want to talk to you about something.”

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and gazed up at Snape in wonder. “Okay, what is it?”

Snape paused and took a deep breath. His focus shifted a little, and he looked over Harry’s small, round face. “Do you remember what ‘muggles’ are?”

“Yes, they’re non-magic people.”

“Yes. Now, there are some witches and wizards who come from families called purebloods. That means there are no muggles in their family at all, not even a long time ago. The Malfoys are a family like that.” Snape curled his hands in his lap. “And then there are half-bloods, who are magical people like you and me. That means we have both magical and non-magical relatives. And last…” His eyes drifted to the photo of Snape and Lily as child. “There are witches and wizards who are born to non-magical parents. These people are called Muggleborns.”

Harry nodded slowly. “So, what difference does it make?”

Snape watched him for a long time.

_If you raise him the right way – instill the values that are necessary for a strong magical community - we might very well have another chance._

Harry looked on expectantly.

“None,” Snape murmured at last. “It makes no difference at all.”

Harry rocked a little in his spot.

“However,” Snape continued more firmly, “there are those who believe it does. They think Muggleborns are bad, and so they call them terrible names… “ he paused, before going on, “names like Mudblood.” He tapped Harry’s head, as he often did when he wanted Harry to pay close attention. “And that is a word I never, ever want to hear come out of your mouth. Do you understand? It is a very rude and terrible thing to say, and you must never call anyone that, because if you did – “ he paused, swallowing over a lump in his throat, “- if you did, your mother would be… very disappointed and sad.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Your mother – your mother and I both,” Snape continued haltingly, “we would be very ashamed and displeased. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded hurriedly. “I don’t want you and mummy to be ashamed of me,” he said anxiously.

“Then do as I say,” managed Snape with great difficulty. “No matter what you hear – no matter whom you befriend, or what they tell you – never, ever disrespect or insult someone based on their blood status. Do this… for your mother, who was a Muggleborn, and would have never tolerated such behavior, even if she weren’t.”

Harry sat very straight in his spot. “I won’t, Daddy.”

“Swear.”

“I swear, I will never call anyone – “ he paused, before asking in a worried whisper, “which one was the bad word?”

“Mudblood.”

Harry straightened again. “I swear, I will never, ever call anyone the bad ‘m’ word, not in my whole life.”

Snape nodded. “Good,” he murmured.

Harry looked over at the framed photo of Lily and Snape, and he took it in his hands. “Daddy,” he said, “what was Mummy’s name?”

Snape lowered his eyes. “Lily.”

“Lily?” repeated Harry brightly. “Like the flower?”

A pause.

“Yes, Harry. Like the flower.”

Harry looked back at the photograph and smiled. “Lily Snape,” he pronounced happily.

Snape closed his eyes briefly.

Harry gripped him and crawled into his lap, forcing Snape to look at him. “Do I look like her?” he asked, his face directly in front of Snape’s. Snape reached up and nudged Harry’s glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“More than you look like me.”

Harry giggled, and then he asked Snape to make him a snack. They got up and left the room, and Harry carried the photo with him for the rest of the day.


	4. "The Talk"

Author's Note: I'm glad you guys are enjoying these little domestic snippets! Snape is not the best father (really, did anyone expect him to be), but bless him, he tries.

* * *

Summer was looming.

In Spinner's End, this meant the sun lingered in the sky a little longer each day, and the fields surrounding the village were full to bursting with life. Snape and Harry spent a lot of time outside, tending to their gardens or even trekking further off into the forests. Harry asked repeatedly for a broomstick, but Snape was trying to save himself that migraine as long as possible, so he got him a bicycle with training wheels instead. He instantly regretted this decision when Harry began unconsciously magicking the little bike into the air and nearly sped off straight into the sun like bloody Icarus.

Snape would have gladly traded that dilemma for the one he faced soon after, though.

"Daddy."

Snape was trying to read a dystopian novel about the apocalypse. Imagining the complete and utter destruction of the human race brought him a great deal amount of comfort.

"What?"

"I want a baby brother or sister."

Snape dragged his eyes away from the book. "No."

"Why not?" Harry stood in front of Snape's chair and gripped his kneecaps. "I want one! A boy or a girl, I don't care! Can you get me one?"

"I cannot." Snape turned a page in his book and continued reading.

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't work that way."

"Annie at school has a baby brother. She said her mummy made it. Can you make one like her mummy did?"

"I can truthfully say that no, I cannot."

Harry huffed. "Then can you buy one? Please. I won't ask for anything ever again."

Snape closed the book with a snap. "First of all, you will certainly ask me for something else within a _infinitesimal_ amount of time, and second – " He set the book aside. "Babies have to be created by two people."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he experienced a wave of instant regret. Harry's eyes were wide as saucers. He knew that look only too well. 

"How do two people make a baby?" Harry asked in wonder.

Snape sighed. "Must we have this conversation now?"

"Yes."

"…"

"Right this minute, Daddy."

"You can go outside and play on your bike."

Harry clambered into his lap, took Snape's face in his hands, and said quite seriously, "I need to know. Right now. How babies. Are made."

Snape considered begging. This was the last bloody thing he wanted to do. 

The truth was, he'd already thought about this conversation. He was _not_ going to do all of that silly "nickname" business – Harry had never once been taught to call his penis anything other than a penis – and he was not going to mince words. There would be no fluff. He was going to be matter-of-fact about the whole affair, like he was with literally everything else. Procreation was not some great secret.

Man. Woman. Sex. Baby.

But, as so many parents had discovered before him, children did not always make it easy to stick to a plan. How he could look at Harry's eager face and say something to the effect of _insert penis, exit baby,_ he had no idea, and every single age-appropriate explanation he'd practiced in his head simply flew out of the window.

Snape cleared his throat.

"Well."

Harry stared with a rapt attention he applied to virtually nothing else. Snape began to sweat.

"There must be a man… and a woman."

Harry nodded wisely.

"And they must come together… and have sex."

"What is sex?"

Snape hesitated. "It's … like kissing."

Harry gasped. "You can make a baby by _kissing_?"

Snape balked. "Yes," he said, because he suddenly had the desire to scare Harry away from females forever and save them both a lot of grief.

Harry shook his head. "Wow," he said. "So, they kiss, and then where does the baby come from?"

"The woman carries it in her belly. It grows in there."

Harry's jaw dropped. "It grows in her belly? How?"

"It starts very small and gets bigger."

Harry looked all around. "Like a _plant_?" he shrieked.

Snape blinked. "Yes. Like a plant."

Harry thought about this. "So then where does the seed come from? Does she _swallow_ it? Does she swallow the seed – "

Snape tried not to look as horrified as he felt.

" – and then it gets down into her belly – "

"No, no, please, for the love of Merlin, stop."

_What a horrible analogy, good god._

"She doesn't – " He cleared his throat. "She does not … swallow it."

 _For pregnancy,_ he thought before he could stop himself.

"The seed is … already there," he said, because he had to move on from this part of the explanation before he developed a chronic condition. "And the seed grows into a baby and her belly, and then it is born."

"How?"

Snape sighed. "She… pushes it out."

Harry's brows furrowed. He looked incredibly concerned.

"She pushes it out of her belly?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"… Between her legs."

"Like a _poop_?"

Snape buried his face in a hand. Both wizards sat in devastated silence.

"That sounds horrible," said Harry.

"Yes, it is a terrible process with an even worse result."

"I wouldn't want to be pregnant, that's for sure," said Harry. "No wonder you don't want to give me a brother or sister." He got up and wandered away. "Yuck."

Snape spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about all the ways this conversation could come back to haunt him. He never imagined he would have to pay for it as soon as the very next day.

"Good morning, Miss Prewitt!" Harry said happily to his teacher as soon as Snape dropped him off. He paused. "Have you ever had a baby?"

Rosemary Prewitt looked surprised. "Well, no, I haven't!"

"Good, don't do it," said Harry, right in front of a horrified Snape, "because then you've got to swallow a seed and poop out a baby. It doesn't sound like any fun to me."

Then he went inside, leaving Rosemary to stare, mouth open, and then look at Snape, who dragged a hand down his face.

"I bloody tried!" he snapped, flustered, and then he promptly avoided the schoolteachers for the rest of the week.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I am shocked by the amount of interest this little series has received. I hope you all continue to enjoy!

* * *

Little Harry Snape was very, very excited about his new shoes. His father, Severus Snape, knew this because Harry had told him so perhaps ten or eighty times in the past four minutes.

"Mmhm," said Snape as they walked, hand-in-hand, down the lively village street.

Harry paused to suck in a deep breath, and then his enthusiastic chatter (which now bordered on manic) resumed in full-force once more.

"I wanna – I wanna tie them by myself, okay, because I can do – did you know, one time, when I was – uh, I was – it wasn't yesterday, Daddy – then I went to go to play, and it wasn't anymore – but my shoes, they weren't good, but these ones – they are - "

Snape wondered vaguely if he would last until Harry left for Hogwarts, or if putting the child in a soundproof box truly was his only reasonable option.

Just then, the pair of wizards walked by a café, and Snape paused to consider a tray of confections in the window. He had a secret weakness for anything cinnamon-flavored. As he was eyeing the glass case – Harry's ramblings had now transitioned into a detailed description of the scab on his elbow – a figure stepped out of the café and called out in a bright, chipper voice.

"Oh, Harry!"

Snape's eyes flickered up and immediately narrowed. _Eugh,_ he thought.

"Miss Prewitt!" Harry hurried over to his young teacher, who wrapped him up in a hug. "I haven't seen you in so many – uh, days, and months and years!"

It had actually only been three weeks since school had ended for the summer, but Snape, too, was sure decades had passed them by since Harry first opened his mouth that morning.

Of course, sunny little Miss Prewitt was all smiles, ever-approving of Harry no matter his behavior. Snape grimaced in her direction and did not greet her, even when she straightened and looked directly at him.

"Hello, Mister Snape!"

Snape raised a brow.

Rosemary Prewitt, who had been dealing with Snape for a while at this point, simply shook her head and turned her attention back to Harry.

"What're you doing out today, Miss Prewitt?" asked Harry. "Are you getting new shoes, too? I am!"

"Oh, no new shoes for me, I'm afraid," she said, giggling. "I was actually out having lunch with a friend. Would you like to meet him?"

"Sure!" Harry said enthusiastically, which, really, was the strongest indicator of any that he was not Snape's biological child. Rosemary clapped her hands gleefully, and then she called to someone in the café. A moment later, a young wizard emerged, and as soon as he appeared next to them, his eyes turned to Snape and they locked gazes.

A moment passed in tense stillness, and then the other wizard managed a smile.

"Severus," greeted Remus Lupin kindly. "It's good to see you."

He was so astounded to see Snape, it seemed, that he had not yet noticed Harry. Snape tugged the little boy behind him without moving his gaze from Lupin's.

"Lupin," was all he said in greeting.

Rosemary paused. "You two know each other?"

Snape said nothing, and he was subtly moving back away from the couple with Harry behind him. The little boy kept twisting and poking around, trying to see what he was being shielded from, but Lupin still hadn't noticed him. Yet.

"Oh, we were … in the same year in school," said Lupin. He smiled again, quite friendly. Snape cut his eyes at the other man. "It's been a while," Lupin added.

"Pity that it wasn't longer," was Snape's reply, and with that, he turned sharply and urged Harry on in front of him. Harry protested, asking why they had to leave so suddenly, and when he did, he looked back at Rosemary and her companion.

That was when Lupin caught a quick glance at the little boy's face, and after a startled pause, he left Rosemary behind and hurried to catch up with them.

"Snape – "

He moved in front of them, stopping Snape in his tracks. Snape stood straight and tall, expression darkening instantly.

"What the – " Lupin tried to duck around him, but Snape pulled Harry behind him again.

" _Move_ , Lupin. Or I will move you myself."

"Do you have a son?" asked Lupin suspiciously, trying to look at Harry. Snape tried to move them past the other man, but Harry popped his head out from behind Snape.

"Hi there!"

Lupin froze, his eyes growing wide. Snape's gut twisted violently. He could not Apparate from this spot, not in the middle of the village. His right hand hovered close to where his wand sat under his cloak. His other was locked tightly around Harry's fingers.

"Bloody hell," exhaled Lupin, lips parted. He looked up at Snape, and then back to Harry multiple times. "Is that – is he?"

"Remove yourself, Lupin."

Comprehension entered Lupin's features, and the friendly expression from before melted away to something much more dangerous.

"You… you have him?"

"I said – _move_!" snarled Snape. Next to him, Harry jerked in surprise. Now a little afraid, he tucked into Snape's side.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

Lupin balked at this. "Daddy?" he repeated, looking back up at Snape with increasing animosity. "How – how _dare_ you? How did you do this? Did you steal him away?"

"I will tell you one more time," Snape growled, only fighting the urge to snatch out his wand because Harry was so nearby, "get out of my way, and leave us alone – "

"I'm calling on the Aurors," snapped Lupin. "I'm calling on Dumbledore. He needs to know what you've done!"

"You are a fool if you think Dumbledore does not already know exactly what is going on," hissed Snape, feeling a secret bit of delight at Lupin's shocked expression. "Call on him if you like. Write him a dozen letters. You will find him neither surprised nor outraged."

Behind them, Rosemary rushed up. "What on earth is going on?" she asked worriedly.

"You jealous, hateful, bitter snake!" growled Lupin, eyes shining with emotion. "You know damn well she would _never_ want you raising him!" He pointed. "I'm not sure how you managed to do this, or what sick deeds you've done to get him, but I will never let this stand."

Snape clenched his teeth so tightly it made the muscles in his jaw ache. For a moment, nothing was said. Then Snape's eyes flickered to Rosemary.

"This man is a werewolf."

Lupin's jaw dropped. Rosemary put a hand over her mouth and stepped back.

"There," said Snape snidely. "Now you can busy yourself with your own concerns rather than interfering with mine. Now, if you will excuse us."

With that, Snape swept Harry up in his arms and stalked away, leaving behind the red-faced Lupin and baffled Rosemary. He did not even spare them a glance as he took Harry to the Apparition point, and they both disappeared.

That evening, Harry asked constantly about the man in the village, and why he was so mad at them. Harry was very empathetic; he didn't like for people to be upset.

"He was just confused," Snape told him quietly, urging him to finish his dinner. "You won't see him again. Don't worry."

Harry seemed uncertain, but at last, he stopped asking questions and finished his meal.

A few weeks later, a knock came at the door.

Snape, who had been carefully repairing a small magical telescope Harry had definitely not broken, but had somehow _found_ broken, looked up with a scowl. When he answered the door, the scowl grew in both intensity and unpleasantness.

"What?" he snapped at Rosemary Prewitt, who was standing at his door with a wrapped gift.

"Hello to you, too," she said huffily, putting her free hand on her hip.

"What do you want?"

"I came to deliver a gift," she said, extending it. "It's for Harry's birthday. He's turning six next week."

"What astounding news that is, Miss Prewitt. Have you ever considered a job as a calendar?"

Rosemary folded her arms. "You know, Mister Snape, you are incredibly unpleasant."

"This is yet more information I did not need."

"And, I'll have you know," she continued irritably, "that thanks to what you said about Remus, he's stopped replying to my owls!"

Snape paused. "You're welcome."

The witch dragged a hand down her face. "You know, I just don't understand you, Mister Snape."

"I didn't ask you to, as it so happens."

"Will you please just give Harry the gift?"

"Do you give all your students gifts?" asked Snape.

"I do, actually," she told him primly.

"On your salary? Seems a little impractical."

It occurred to Snape that he greatly preferred Rosemary's current look of annoyance to her bubbly personality.

"They're cookies, Mister Snape. I baked them myself. Will you let him have them?"

Snape looked down at the box skeptically. "Perhaps."

Rosemary sighed. "I suppose that's the best answer I'll get. Anyway, tell him I said 'Happy Birthday' and I hope he has a wonderful day."

"I will pass along your message if I should feel so inclined."

Rosemary glared at him, turned, and disappeared from the spot. Snape shut the door and came inside, only to see Harry standing next to the kitchen table, arms folded and glaring green eyes eerily reminiscent of his mother.

"Daddy."

"Yes?" Snape set aside the box.

"You were mean to Miss Prewitt again, weren't you?"

"I was very courteous, actually."

"Fibber!" Harry declared, pointing. "Daddy, I already told you, you've got to start being nice!"

"And I told you," said Snape firmly, leaning over and setting his dark eyes on Harry's, "you are a child, and you do not make the rules."

Harry growled. The sound was wordlessly and high-pitched, like an angry puppy.

"You should be nice to people! No one is ever going to want to be your friend if you're not nice!"

"I don't want friends, and I don't want to be nice, and for the last time, Harry, you are not in charge!" he told the little boy vehemently. "Now, come along. It's nearly time for dinner."

Harry paused, and Snape balked when he saw the cool look of calculation in the little boy's eyes.

"Daddy."

Snape eyed him warily. "What?"

"I – " Harry pointed to himself for further clarification, " – have decided that I am not going to eat a single bite of food until you start behaving better."

Snape stared. "Excuse me?"

Harry nodded so quickly and enthusiastically that Snape wondered how he didn't snap his neck. "Yes, Daddy. I won't eat anything until you do something nice for someone. If you're good, I'll eat. If you are mean, no food for me. Nope. None."

Snape narrowed his eyes deeply at Harry. Clearly, the little boy remembered how upset Snape had been at the thought of him not eating at school. Now he was using it against him. A thousand swear words settled on the tip of his tongue.

"Well," Snape said haughtily after a moment of shock, "we will see how long that lasts." He turned to the table and picked up the box. "Do you know what this is?"

Harry eyed the box. "A present."

"Yes, and it's for you. Do you know what it is?"

Harry shook his head, straining a little to look at the neat little bow.

Snape opened up the box to reveal two neat rows of delicious little sugar cookies. "Miss Prewitt brought this for you." He extended it, and Harry took the box, eyes wide at the sight of so many cookies. "It's for your birthday," he said, before adding smugly, "Go on. Have one."

Harry looked back up at Snape with puckered lips and a suspicious expression.

Snape smirked. "Well?"

Harry looked back down at the cookies and shifted on his feet. "They do look very yummy," he admitted with all the wise countenance of a six-year-old boy who was very well-versed in cookies. He admired them, even touching one and examining the sugar on the tip of his finger. Then, quite suddenly, his mouth twisted and he looked up at Snape. Without another word, Harry marched over to the rubbish bin, rounded to face his father, and then – maintaining eye-contact with Snape the whole time – he dumped the whole box of cookies into the trash.

Snape dropped his arms in disbelief.

Harry, quite cocky now, marched past Snape. "I'm going to my room," he said lightly, "and I do not want to be disberd." He meant disturbed, but Snape got the message.

"Harry!" snapped Snape, a little panicked. "Harry, you – you get back here – "

Harry turned, pointed vehemently at Snape, and then he shut his door. Snape couldn't believe it. He clenched his hands.

" _HARRY ALAN SNAPE, YOU GET BACK HERE AND EAT THESE COOKIES RIGHT NOW!"_

Harry's door opened, and he peeked his head out. Then he took a big, long, deep breath, and said –

"No."

And then he slammed the door shut again. Snape almost flipped the kitchen table over.

Instead of resorting to that, though, Snape vowed that he would just let Harry be hungry for the rest of the evening if he wanted to be so bloody noble, and he marched into his own room and slammed the door, because that was obviously the best tactic to dealing with childish behavior (he realized sarcastically as he did it).

Once he was in his room, Snape turned to a photograph of Lily.

"Your son – " he told the picture, " – is a stubborn little troll, Lily Evans!"

Snape sat down heavily on his bed.

"And you would – " Snape cleared his throat rather aggressively. "And you would – bloody hell, you would be so – bloody proud of him. Probably encouraging this sort of behavior, wouldn't you?"

Snape glared at the floor.

_She would never want you raising him!_

He frowned, twisting his fingers next to his knees.

_That would be his mother in him, I suppose._

Snape pulled off his boots and sat alone in his room for a while. When he came back out, dinner (lamb, rice, and veggies) was cold in the kitchen. Snape put some in a few little containers and placed them in the fridge where Harry could reach. After a moment's hesitation, he brought one to Harry's room and knocked on the door.

Harry was already asleep. Snape sighed and came in, setting the food aside. Surely Harry would eat in the morning. He was always ravenous when he woke up.

Moving through the room, Snape waved the room to tidy up, getting socks off the floor and toys into their boxes. Once that was done, he shifted Harry under the covers and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. Once Harry was secure in his bed, Snape paused and reached out, touching the boy's soft black hair.

"Stubborn little troll," he murmured. "I'm going to abandon you in a well someday. Toss you right over the side. Just you wait."

After that, Snape got up and left the room, flicking his wand at the night light before he stepped out.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Welcome back! Enjoy the feels.

* * *

The late night had grown stormy. Rain pounded on the rooftop, and flashes of light were often punctuated by distant rolls of thunder.

If Harry had been home, he would have surely been curled up in Snape's arms, wide eyes staring out from behind his glasses. Harry was not a fan of storms, and lightning in particular gave him a terrible fright. Snape wondered if he should go on to the Malfoys, where Harry was staying for the night, to bring the child home.

However, it was already past eleven in the evening, and the boys were likely in bed. Snape waited near the fireplace just in case a house-elf showed up to let him know Harry needed him.

In the meantime, Snape occupied himself with a leather-bound journal, which he used for cataloging notes on his work, and a box of cinnamon candies, which he always saved for the rare nights when Harry wasn't home. This was typically necessary because Harry insisted on eating it all, but the boy was still on his "protest fasting" kick, and he probably wouldn't have eaten the candy anyway.

He was eating enough to stay _alive_ , of course, and he wasn't ill or anything, but Snape feared he was going to start losing weight soon, and Harry was thin enough as it was. When Harry returned from the Malfoys, Snape decided, he was going to force him to sit and eat a whole meal. He'd glue him to the dinner chair if necessary. Protests be damned.

As Snape was thinking on this, the fire in the hearth flared green. Snape turned, prepared for a house-elf with news of Harry's hysterics.

Instead, what he saw was Albus Dumbledore.

"Severus," greeted the old man amiably, as if he had not just shown up unannounced in Snape's own home, like _he always bloody did_.

Thanks to years of practice maintaining a set of placid and unimpressed facial expressions, Snape did not give away his intense internal reaction to Dumbledore's presence.

"Hello, Albus."

Snape stood and immediately began making tea. Dumbledore smiled, aged face crinkling, and when Snape gestured, he took a seat in an armchair next to a table. Snape joined him on the other side.

"How are you, Severus?"

"Well, thank you."

"And Harry?"

"Spending the night with Draco Malfoy and his family," Snape said calmly. "Although, I expect you knew that already, considering you are here now."

Dumbledore never visited while Harry was around. In fact, Snape had not seen him in nearly two years.

"Yes, I thought it best if we were able to talk without interruption."

"Well," said Snape dryly, "you were right to avoid Harry, then."

Dumbledore's smile grew. "He is sociable?"

"Unbearably so."

"Good." Dumbledore sipped at the tea. "Remus Lupin contacted me recently."

Snape narrowed his eyes over his teacup. "And what did that treacherous beast say?"

"This is no occasion for cruel words, Severus. Nor is it fitting for you to carry around old school grudges at this age."

Snape scowled. "Did he tell you what he did? How he frightened Harry? I thought he was going to try and snatch him from the street." He set down his teacup. "He has no business interfering with the boy at all."

"Remus was merely concerned, Severus."

"And did you tell him he had no right to be?" asked Snape tightly, and Dumbledore inclined his head.

"I informed him that Harry was very well taken care of."

"Good." Snape picked up his cup rather irritably and continued to drink. "Harry is doing just fine. Far better than he would have if you'd left him in that bloody horrid place from before."

Dumbledore frowned. "An error in judgement on my part, I'm afraid. I had hoped that Harry's Muggle aunt and uncle would be more inclined to care for him."

"I told you they bloody weren't," muttered Snape, casting his dark eyes around the room. "I told you from the very beginning, that woman is a vile, wretched creature, and that putrid Muggle husband of hers is no different."

"I had not considered," admitted Dumbledore, "how well you knew Petunia, having grown up near her. However, I think that – perhaps, if she'd had more time to bond with Harry, things might have been different."

Snape's eyes narrowed deeply. "Three months, Albus. Three months, you left Harry there. And not _once_ did those degenerate Muggles hold him in their arms. They fed and changed him in a crib, and then they left the room and locked the door."

"Yes, I remember. That is why I allowed you to take him."

"Likely would've raised him in a bloody broom closet if he'd remained - "

"But," cut in Dumbledore smoothly, "we did not, and here he is, a happy, healthy young boy with a wonderful spirit." He paused, before going on quietly, "Have you spoken with him yet? About what we discussed last time?"

Snape frowned deeply. "Not yet. There hasn't been a good time."

Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic look. "Severus, it was part of our agreement. You must tell Harry the truth about his mother and father."

Snape looked away, hands tense on the arm of his chair.

"You agreed. Harry has a right to know."

"He's too young," muttered Snape. "If I tell him about his parents, then I have to tell him about the Dark Lord, and the scar, and the bloody reputation he has all over the world. He's six, Albus. It can wait."

"It can't." Dumbledore's voice was deceptively soft. Snape felt his spine straighten some, as if on some protective instinct.

There was a long, heavy pause.

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "Why do you fear Harry knowing the truth? What do you think will happen?"

Snape's eyes snapped back to Dumbledore. Fury prickled under his skin.

"What do I think will happen?" he repeated lowly. "I'll tell you what will happen, Albus. Harry will learn that I lied to him. He will learn that I am not his father, and that I was never – " Snape paused, clearing his throat roughly, " – and that I was never married to his mother. He will find out that he is of no more blood to me than he is to a stranger on the street. And instead, he will hear the name _James Potter_ , and that – that, Albus, will be the name he carries with him in his heart."

Snape stood and paced.

"And he will go to Hogwarts, and he will hear that name again, everywhere he goes! _James Potter,_ brave Gryffindor, _James Potter_ , Prefect, _James Potter_ , Quidditch captain, _James Potter_ , bloody Head Boy! Perfection in human form! And he will never know of his father's cruelty, he will never hear about Potter's malicious pranks, his insults, his mockery! He will only hear the bloated praises! The admiration! The hero-worship!"

Snape rounded to face Dumbledore, his voice rising to a crescendo.

"And just like that – James Potter will have taken away everything I love – _AGAIN!"_

He swallowed hard.

Dumbledore looked up at him thoughtfully, even as he panted against the sudden heat in his face. "Severus, the only person who can destroy Harry's love for you, is you." He frowned. "A lesson, I thought you'd have already learned by now."

A stinging pain pierced Snape's heart, and he looked away again. The brutal implication – the reminder, really – that it was he who had driven Lily away, not James and his tricks, stuck in Snape's chest like a dagger.

Dumbledore stood. "It is unfair to Harry to lie to him any longer. Tell him now, Severus, while his young, gracious heart is still open enough to forgive you."

Snape closed his eyes. Dumbledore rose, thanked him for the tea, and headed to the fireplace. Before he left, he turned back to Snape. "You know, my offer from before still stands. Horace is determined to retire soon, and you would make an excellent Potions master."

Snape's distress faded into annoyance. "I can think of nothing I'd like less than to teach a bunch of brainless little brats at Hogwarts." He shifted. "Besides, Harry wouldn't want me following him to school. He's an independent boy."

Dumbledore hummed in a vague show of agreement. "Even so, the offer remains. Good night, Severus."

With that, he vanished into a puff of green smoke and flame.

* * *

The next morning, Snape retrieved Harry from the Malfoys house.

"Severus," said Narcissa worriedly. "Harry hardly ate a bite while he was here – "

"Yes, I bloody know," snapped Snape, taking Harry, who was quite sleepy, into his arms and carrying him off. They left the Malfoy Manor and headed straight for the village, where they picked up a pretty little potted plant filled with blue flowers.

"What's this for?" asked Harry with a wide yawn, and Snape wondered if he wasn't weak from a lack of food.

"It's a gift," said Snape, and then, without another word, he Apparated with Harry onto a quiet little street. There, Snape put Harry down on his feet, took his hand, and walked straight to a tiny little cottage with a 'P' on the door. He knocked as Harry looked on curiously.

Rosemary Prewitt appeared a moment later, and she looked very surprised.

"Oh! Mister Snape!" She smiled. "And Harry!"

"Hi Mrs. Prewitt!" Harry exclaimed cheerfully, perking up immediately. Rosemary looked up at Snape, looking no less curious than Harry.

"How can I help you, Mister Snape?"

Snape hesitated, and then he awkwardly gestured to the potted plant. "We wanted to bring you a gift. As thanks, for teaching Harry this year."

He practically shoved it into her hands.

"Oh!" Rosemary quickly gained a grip on the pot, and for a moment, she simply stared. Then her face lit up in another brilliant smile, this one larger than the last. "My, how beautiful!" She leaned a little closer to admire the flowers.

"That would be unwise," Snape said baldly. "It's a Fanged Geranium."

The flower snapped at her and gnashed its teeth.

"Oh!" Rosemary jerked the sharp-toothed flower away from her face. "Well, I'm sure – you know, I'll just put it in a box in the garden." She set the plant aside carefully.

"It's good for cooking," Snape told her uncertainly. "The fangs – they help make for an excellent stew."

"I'm sure it's lovely."

"If it bites you, you should see a healer."

"Yes, well, thank you ever so much."

"We hope you like it!" piped up Harry, as if he had personally orchestrated the whole thing. Then he gave Snape an adoring look, and the elder wizard smiled just a little.

"Truly. I am grateful." She ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. "You and your father are both very good people, Harry." Harry grinned widely. Rosemary looked up at Snape and inclined her head politely. "Would you like to come in for some tea and biscuits?"

Snape balked. He hadn't expected to be invited inside. He prepared his usual answer, which of course was firmly rooted in the negative, but then Harry tugged on his hand.

"Can we, Daddy?" Then he added cheekily, "I am _starving_!"

Snape sighed, and when he looked up at Rosemary, she giggled. "I'll need help re-potting your plant," she pointed out lightly, her eyes twinkling.

Snape made a face. "Very well."

So, they went inside, and – much to Snape's dismay – they had a wonderful time


End file.
